We have yet to travel the world, and our savings for the Round the World ticket is in dire straits. But we’re driven and passionate, and you can trust that our ten-year plan to climb Mount Everest will happen.
I think it’s important I remember that, too.
There are a myriad of reasons why I can’t do this. I don’t really believe that I even know where to begin. But I can’t do this. And I’ll try my very best to tell you why.
I can’t do this because when you tell me that I’m beautiful, I believe you. And I can’t have that. I can’t have someone convincing me that they see beauty in me. If I believe you – and sometimes I do – then what’ll happen when you leave? Because you will leave.
That’s another one. I can’t do this because you’ll leave. You won’t know it yet, but I do. I’ll ignore the fact, however. A sort of emotional masochistic endeavor. But I won’t be entirely ignorant. I’ll convince myself that this time it’ll be different. This time I’ll be loved. This time you will stay and I can feel safe. This time…
What else? Well, for one thing, you have soft pillows. There. I said it. You want to know why I can’t do this, and that’s a perfectly viable reason. The pillows on your bed are so soft it feels as if I’m sleeping on a marshmallow – which actually isn’t as pleasant as it sounds.
I can’t do this because when you look at me, I can’t breathe for a second. And if you were to look at me for longer, with the meaning in your eyes that I hope to find, I’d die. Just keel over. You may not know this, but breathing is necessary for living. Yup. And your taking my breath away is for one thing, decidedly rude, and for another, impeding the efficiency of my living processes.
I can’t do this because you make me laugh – even when I’ve had the worst day. Your eyes captivate me. Your voice enthralls me so that I just want you to tell me stories all day long. I can’t do this because you have made me forget about the other 3,456,782,396 men on the planet. I can’t do this because if I did, I’d never want to not do it. I can’t do this because you hesitate when I tell you how I feel. You hesitate when I ask you to kiss me. And you’ll hesitate when I ask you to love me.
I can’t do this, us, love, because… Well, if I’m honest – completely 100% honest – I can do this.
And I want to. But if I need to find reasons not to, to protect myself, then I will.
Even if the only reason I can find is those damn pillows!
It’s your loss, I’m afraid. I’ve moved on. And whilst I’d still come running back if you were to look in my general direction with only the slightest hint of longing, I won’t let you know it. Instead I’ll carry out a flawless and evil plan in which you’ll get the message that I’m over you. Although not so clearly that you don’t realise what you’ve lost and come running to my house, begging for me back, with a boombox spouting love songs held up high over your head. Allow me to elaborate on my dastardly ways.
I’ll date. Oh man, will I date. If a man asks, I’m in. And because of the friendship status you’ve allocated to us, I’ll come to you for advice on how to let a man whose fallen for me, down easily. I will date. But I’ll never feel the butterflies I felt for you when I’m getting ready. And my heart won’t skip a beat when he leans in to kiss me. Whenever you kissed me, I could barely breathe. But with these men, my heart may as well have flatlined. And it’ll be your fault, because none of them will kiss me the way that you did, like that night when I fell asleep in the car and you woke me with a kiss that left my brain buzzing. Or all of those times we went on adventures, to mountain tops at midnight with moonlit ocean views. How can any other date ever compare? You’ve ruined it for them all. And for me, too.
I’ll pretend not to care at all. Oh, you didn’t know I still cared? Good. You don’t deserve to. And you won’t. So go ahead and tell me about all of the new women in your life, and when we’re out, why not flirt with the big-breasted blonde? I won’t betray my bleeding heart. Not one tear shall fall upon my
A cup chest. At least, not until I get home, and shut the door as you drive off none-the-wiser. If you don’t care, neither will I. Not out loud, anyway.
I’ll daydream. You don’t know it yet, but I was the best thing you never had. And I’ll daydream about the moment it dawns on you. It’ll be oddly wonderful. This look will come over your face, as if seeing me for the first time… And then you’ll pull me into your arms and promise never to let me go again. And until then I will wait and watch for that light of realisation to flicker in your eyes. I thought I saw it once before, but perhaps it was just a camera flash, or the flame from your lighter, or even the reflection of the moon. Whatever it was, it’d be helpful if you could have the decency to stop blinking, so I that can catch it when it happens, dammit.
I’ll break my own heart. You always said you knew me, but if you did, you’d know how loyally and hopelessly I love. And I know you won’t mean to lead me on, but I’ll find hope in every little thing that you do. And when you finally catch on to what it is I’m doing, and remind me (once more) of how you feel (or don’t feel), my heart will break. Again. And it’ll hurt. Until I resolve once more to win you back. By showing you that I’m over you. Again.